


The Lost Boys

by londoncuties



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Magic Users, Slow Build Relationships, later angst, newtmas fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-11-16
Packaged: 2019-08-01 11:12:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16283528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/londoncuties/pseuds/londoncuties
Summary: Thomas wakes up to find himself in a strange place, having no idea where he is or how he got there. He soon comes across a mysterious boy named Newt who knows all about the island and the dangers outside of it. He claims it to be Neverland, and Thomas is reluctant to believe it at first, or anything else he's told for that matter. Though he comes to the realization that it's no dream, and this place is now his reality. He must learn to live this new life of his, befriend some of the lost boys, and face the dangers everyone speaks of.





	1. Chapter One

 He woke not knowing where he was or how he had gotten there.

 The sky above was a deep dark shade of blue that indicated nighttime, stars scattering the world surrounding him like paint thrown on a canvas. A sudden gust of pleasant, cool air then made him aware of the bed of grass he lay on. The green color was almost as deep and dark as the sky, and felt delicate on his fingertips.

 His surroundings, he realized, were anything but the ones he had at home. In any other circumstance, this would have been a good thing, but his initial reaction was to panic. Though it wasn't the best starting plan for whatever situation he'd gotten himself into, he also couldn't blame himself. Panicking is what people did best. Therefore, he was starting to panic. He would have started hyperventilating for effect, but settled on wide eyes and disbelief.

 He then realized there was an aching pain on the side of his head, and he began to wonder if... Oh no. What if he'd somehow hit his head so hard that he lost his memories! He quickly went over some basic information.

  _My name is Thomas. I'm seventeen years old. I love cinnamon apple pie. History class is a bitch. I'm bisexual and yet somehow always thoroughly confused. Puppies are fucking adorable._

Yep, everything seemed to be in order.

 Thomas let out a sigh of relief, and almost wanted to laugh at himself for being so ridiculous in his worrying. Almost. 

 Instead, he slowly stood, doing a 360 in an attempt to take in his new environment. He then knew for sure that he was very far away from home.

 He was surrounded by a canopy of trees, except for the opening towards the sky directly above him. From that opening he could see more stars than he swore he had ever seen in his lifetime. The air was fresh, and carried the soft sent of rain and pine trees. There were subtle sounds he was able to pick up, such as the whistle of the wind against the grass, the cicadas singing, the nocturnal creatures and even the distant sound of waves. Admittedly, he didn't go out much, considering his life wasn't all that eventful, but he sure as hell knew he didn't live anywhere near a body of water. Much less an ocean.

 Thomas had lived with his aunt most of his life, due to his parents death when he was little. A car accident, he was always told. He would always think,  _how stupid is that? My parents died because of something that could have easily been avoided. If only some reckless driver hadn't made the careless mistake they did, the one that decided my parents fate. If only then, they would be here._

 His aunt wasn't the kindest woman, and lived in one of those uptight, rich people neighborhoods. The ones with countless identical houses lined up next to each other on seemingly endless streets. The kind of neighborhood Thomas always hated, because said houses would have at least five bedrooms and most times no more than two people living in them. It made him feel like some spoiled rich kid, which he hoped he wasn't actually listed as.

 It definitely wouldn't be the first place he would go to stargaze, as all the unnatural lighting from the homes seemed to cancel the stars out. The air wasn't necessarily the cleanest, and he never got the satisfaction of breathing in the crisp scent of fall leaves, or the outdoorsy feel of summer nights. Instead, he would get the smell of gasoline and rich people. Yes, rich people had a smell. It was something along the lines of sunblock with a mixture of coconut oil. Disgusting. 

 That's how he knew he was a long way from home.

 It was then that the questions came up again. Where was he, and how had he gotten there? Thomas knew he had to focus, he could worry about the horrendous scent of rich people later.

 Taking in a deep breath, holding it, and letting it out, he thought back to the last thing he remembered.

 He'd been at his aunt's house, he knew that much for sure. At this point, it had become a habit to refer to the place as her's since to Thomas, it never really felt like home, not even after the years he'd spent there. Closing his eyes, he concentrated, and pictured himself standing next to the thin and pale woman with her hair pulled back tightly in a bun, wooden spoon in hand. Thinking about it, he remembered that the spoon wasn't for cooking, and he and his aunt were indulged in a heated argument. A frown formed on his face when the memory of the conversation hit him, just like his aunt hit him with the spoon when he continued to argue. Maybe that was where the pain in his head came from.

 It was far more than reasonable to argue with her about this particular subject. More specifically, he just found out that his aunt had been keeping things that his parents intended to give to him. He demanded that she give them to him, and when she refused and hit him, he ran as fast as he could out of the house. He knew that his actions would only lead to worse consequences later on, but he didn't care at the time, and ran as far as his legs would carry him. He could also remember the sound of distant thunder rolling in, wind pulling at his clothes and rain blurring his vision.

 Reaching the outskirts of his neighborhood, his feet had suddenly slipped from beneath him, leading to the collision with the cold wet ground and his head. An overwhelming dizziness took over him, what looked to be a bright star being the last thing he saw before darkness flooded his vision.

 And now, here he was, both questions still unanswered. Knowing that there was only one way to obtain such answers, he began walking along the unfamiliar terrain in the hopes of finding anything that could help him.

 

 Thomas walked for what felt like at least two hours, though upon looking down at his wrist watch, he discovered that it had only been twenty three minutes. Suppressing a groan, he kept going, and began to wonder what time it was exactly here. It was nighttime, of course, but was it soon to be interrupted by the sun rising? He had no way of knowing, not unless he found someone who knew or stayed long enough to figure it out on his own. Oddly enough, he hadn't run into anyone, or even any signs that there was someone inhabiting this strange new place.

 It was depressing to think that he was alone here, but the scenery did help. It was unlike anything he'd seen before, with the towering trees and vibrant colors that you wouldn't think of finding in a forest. Everything surrounding him had a magical feel to it, from the way the grass danced with the wind to the stars twinkling above him. He couldn't help but allow a small smile to pull onto his lips despite his situation. He hadn't run into anything dangerous, and he hadn't been given a reason to feel threatened. There was nothing to worry about for the time being, right?

 As soon as the thought came to mind, a figure dropped right into his path. Quite literally dropped, as in from one of the impossibly large trees. Whoever it was landed perfectly on their feet, and Thomas screamed because it's not every day you encounter a mysterious cloaked figure while on a leisurely walk.

 The person didn't seem particularly bothered by the sudden outburst, and pulled back his forest green hood. Now, the mystery person had a face, and Thomas' screaming slowly died down.

 Upon closer observation, he could see brown pants and slightly worn boots to go with the cloak that covered the person's torso. His arms, now showing, had leather straps around the wrists. This attire definitely didn't fit modern day expectations, and contrasted Thomas' dark blue jeans, sneakers, and hoodie.

 This wasn't what stood out to the brunette most though, and what really caught his attention was the stranger's attractive features. He was young, and couldn't have been much older than Thomas. His dirty blonde hair hung messy over his forehead, almost reaching his eyes and somehow that appealed to him more. His eyes were a deep chocolaty brown with a kind light in them that made it impossible to fear him in any way. And his smile... Oh, his smile. Thomas instantly fell in love with it.

  _Focus, Thomas!_  Jesus, his bisexuality was going to be the death of him. Everyone was just so god damn cute, and this sexy stranger wasn't helping his situation. Then again, death by a sexy stranger wouldn't be such a bad way to go.

 He didn't realize that he was staring, wide eyed, until the stranger chuckled and finally spoke.

"Sorry, mate. Didn't mean to scare you."

 This seemed to snap Thomas out of his daze, and he shook his head lightly. You know when you run into someone extremely attractive and you completely forget basic skills such as verbal communication?  Yeah, well. "Huh? Oh, uh- you didn't scare me, not at all. I um..." Thomas cleared his throat, "Where am I?"

"Depends. I could tell you a lie that would convince you that you're not going crazy, but there's no fun in that, so... You're in neverland." the stranger answered with an amused smile. "By the looks of it you just arrived, yeah? I know a lost puppy when I see one."

 At the answer he received, Thomas stared blankly at the boy across from him. This was a joke, right? It had to be a joke. He responded as if it was just that, and let out a laugh. It almost sounded exasperated. "And who the hell are you, Peter Pan?"

 The stranger shrugged in response, his arms crossing over his chest soon after. Once again, he didn't seem phased by Thomas' words or actions. "Dunno, is that what people call me? I prefer Newt, but you can use your Peter Pan if you'd like." Once again, he chuckled, seemingly amused by the whole situation while Thomas was still dumbfounded.

 The stranger now had a name in which Thomas could call him by, and yet he wasn't convinced of anything else he had told him so far. Why would he be? It was all crazy talk, and he was starting to think that Newt was a very confused person, not him. The whole situation was more than crazy. Crazy was when he read a fortune cookie that said ' _You will find yourself in a sticky situation'_ and the next day, his crush ran into him on pancake day and got syrup all over his shirt (best day of his life, might he mention) and offered to help him clean it up. But this? This wasn't crazy, this was completely insane.

 Thomas took in a deep breath, deciding to go along with this for now. He wasn't about to call someone at cute as Newt a crazy person.

 "Yeah, okay. Let's just say that this is neverland. Are there lost boys? Fairies? Pirates?" Thomas hadn't been serious in his questioning, and was simply trying to get the other boy to admit he wasn't serious after all. Though unexpectedly, Newt seemed to be actually considering it before answering.

 "Well, yeah. Yeah there are actually. Would you like to see them?" There was a slight edge in Newt's voice, almost as if he was challenging the brunette. Maybe he was seeing how far he could push things or even scare Thomas. Whatever it was, Newt was looking at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk hinting at the corner of his lips, almost as if saying ' _Go on, take the risk. Aren't you curious?'_

Thomas took the bait, because the way Newt set it out for him was far too tempting to turn down. This could potentially turn into a very bad situation, or at least a worse one than he was already in. Though he didn't listen to that voice of warning, simply because he didn't want to. Besides, it was difficult to feel at all threatened around this boy. He perfectly fit the description of an angel, and Thomas didn't see what harm could possibly come from following him. And so he took a cautious step forward, up until he was standing a respectable distance from the boy. "Lead the way."

Newt seemed pleased with this answer, because he then gave Thomas a charming smile before grabbing him by the hand and pulling him further on the trail, if he could even call it that. He was too distracted to ask just where they were going, as in distracted by the hand holding his and the fact that this guy actually agreed to take him to see lost boys. Thomas had no idea what to expect. He realized he was being silent, and though the silence wasn't particularly awkward, he knew he had to break it if he was going to get answers. 

 "Hey, Newt? So how did I get here? I mean, you must know, right? Did you see me arrive at all? Fall out of the sky or something?"

 At his questions, Newt looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "I do know, yeah. I brought you here."

 At these words, Thomas frowned in confusion, his eyebrows knitting together. Brought him here? How could he have done that? He opened his mouth so that he could form another question on the topic, but suddenly Newt placed a hand in front of his chest to keep him from walking any further. This only confused him more, but he soon saw why. Just ahead of them was a cliff that went so far down he couldn't see the bottom of it.

 Newt peered down into the darkness of the cliff before looking back to Thomas with a grin. "Are you ready to go across?"

 The question was so ridiculous that Thomas' mind didn't process it at first. Though as soon as it did, he looked at the other in total disbelief.

 "Wha-? Are you crazy? We can't go across that, we'll-"

 "Pixie dust." Newt interrupted, taking hold of a string around his neck and pulling it to reveal a small vial connected to it. Inside of it was a faintly glowing green dust. Before Thomas could protest, he'd opened the vial and sprinkled it on the both of them. The brunette really hoped that wasn't some radioactive substance that would turn him into spider man or the hulk. Either way, he knew he had to speak up before something very bad happened. 

 "Okay, listen. We just met and you seem like a pretty okay guy, but I can't just jump to my death with a stranger, y'know? You don't even know my name-"

 "Your name is Thomas." He once again cut him off, leaving Thomas surprised. "And I'm not asking you to die. That wouldn't be very kind of me. All I'm asking is for you to trust me and jump across." Newt grabbed tightly onto Thomas' hand, and for a only moment there was a soft green glow between the hold.

 Thomas' eyes widened, and his initial reaction was to try and pull back as Newt took a step closer to the cliff. Why was it that the cute ones always had to be crazy? Newt didn't release his grip, and Thomas was beginning to panic.

 "Hey- just wait a minute! What if we don't make it across? What if we fall to our death?" Thomas was near hyperventilating, his heart just about ready to jump out of his chest. Newt simply looked over at him with a soft smile and a light in his eyes.

 "Oh darling, what if you fly?"

 And just like that, Newt jumped over the edge hand in hand with Thomas. This was it. This was how Thomas was going to die. His aunt wouldn't know what happened to him, and neither would anyone at school. A piercing scream escaped through his lips and he shut his eyes, holding tightly to Newt's hand. At least he wouldn't be alone, and all that was left was to brace for the impact of their fall. But it never came.

 Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, and he couldn't believe what he was seeing. They weren't falling, they were floating,  _floating_ over the cliff and to the other side. Before Thomas could even process what his eyes were reusing to believe, they gracefully landed on the other side. Well, Newt landed gracefully. Thomas stumbled forward and face planted in the dirt. Not exactly his proudest moment.

 He scrambled to his feet only moments after, disbelief etched on his features. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He stood there dumbfounded, staring at Newt for almost a full minute before speaking.

 "Wh-Wha- how-"

 "You're in Neverland, Tommy. You can fly. Now let's get going, yeah?"

 Thomas couldn't even bring himself to argue, and his feet stumbled forwards on their own after Newt who was now walking ahead of him. What else could he have done? As they continued on through the forest, he played the scene over and over in his head, finding no other explanation besides the one the boy offered him. Maybe he was going crazy, or maybe he truly was in Neverland. If he was lucky, this was all some weird dream he would wake up from very soon. Holding onto that hope, he followed after the boy.

 

 They arrived at what looked to be a camp made by professional builders, certainly not young boys.

 There was an entire setup of forts and tree houses, and bridges connecting it all. There was a fire left burning, and several tools and weapons left laying about. And yet no boys. This struck Thomas as odd, then again, he didn't know what he had been expecting. 

 He looked to Newt with a questioning gaze, and not a second after he did, he was surrounded. What the hell? He did a 360 to observe the many boys calmly facing him with weapons in hand. Newt, their apparent leader, didn't seem particularly concerned, as if this were some daily routine. Thomas on the other hand didn't appreciate the pointy sticks, and looked about ready to perform a mortal combat move on the nearest person. Thankfully, Newt spoke before the brunette could embarrass himself.

 "Now now, where are your manners? I know you're all excited about your new toy, but be polite and introduce yourself to Thomas here."

  _Toy?_ Thomas was a lot of things, but he certainly wasn't something to play with and provide entertainment. All the boys seemed to think otherwise, and lowered their weapons as they talked and snickered amongst themselves, like  _'just kidding! We're not going to kill you after all.'_ Upon closer observation, he saw that most of them were around his age, some a bit younger, some seemingly older. But they were all kids like him, no adult or voice of authority. If anything, Newt played that role, their 'Peter Pan.' But even then, the blonde haired male was much too easy going to be considered an authoritative voice. He had an air of rebellion to him, just like all of his 'lost boys.'

 Thomas frowned to himself as some of the boys cleared out, not caring enough to introduce themselves, and others stayed. One short and chubby boy, probably the youngest of all of them, held a confident hand towards Thomas. 

 "My name is Chuck. Nice to meet ya, shank." The boy chuckled to himself as if he just said the funniest thing in the world. Who the hell was Shank?

 "Uh, my name is Thomas. Not Shank. Nice to meet you too, Chuck." Thomas muttered in response, shaking his hand. The young boy looked at him like he was a complete idiot. Always nice to make an impression.

 It looked like Chuck was considering saying something else, but he just rolled his eyes and walked off. Apparently he'd decided Thomas' stupidity wasn't worth correcting. The brunette male tilted his head in confusion, not sure what to make of the conversation he just indulged in. So perhaps Shank wasn't a person, but before he could think any more on the subject, another boy approached him.

 This one looked a lot friendly than some of the others, with his dimpled smile and bright eyes. He held out his hand just as Chuck did, and Thomas accepted it. "George." He introduced himself as, and Thomas nodded as they shook hands. "And I already know your name, but nice to meet you anyways, Thomas. Oh, and by the way, shank is just a nickname we use around here. I have no idea what it means, but it ain't a friendly one, so don't let little Chuck pick on you like that."

 George chuckled, and Thomas couldn't help but smile in return. The guy seemed too friendly not to. He received a pat on the back before George walked off, leaving him with Newt and some other boys who kept their distance, but who were staring nonetheless. This made him slightly uncomfortable, but Newt once again appeared by his side, and suddenly he was a little better.

 "Most of 'em are friendly, believe it or not, but they're also proud bastards that can't take a minute to introduce themselves." Newt shook his head, nudging Thomas lightly with a reassuring smile. "But don't worry, you'll fit right in in no time." 

 The boy said it so casually that Thomas didn't pick up on the meaning behind the words at first. But it soon processed, and he turned to Newt with wide eyes. "Wha-? Fit in? Newt, I- I can't stay here, I have to get home to my aunt..." he never thought he'd say such a thing, but here he was, giving that excuse.

 Newt looked at him with disappointment in his gaze, and pulled Thomas off to the side, away from all the rest of the boys. Once they were out of hearing distance, the blonde haired male held him by the shoulders, making him turn to look at him straight in the eyes.

 "Tommy, you and I both know you don't belong there." Thomas opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. He knew he was right. He never felt as if he belonged there, not even once. At his silence, Newt continued. "I brought you here for a reason, alright? All of these boys are here for a reason. Not one of them are missed from where they came from, but here they're accepted, no matter what. You deserve that too. So what do you say, give it a chance? I won't make you stay, and I'll send you home if it doesn't feel right. Hell, you probably think none of this is real. But all I'm asking for is one day. Can you do that for me?"

Thomas wanted to stand strong with his previous decision, decline with ease and show that Newt hadn't influenced him in any way. And yet somehow, he couldn't, and was left staring at the other with uncertainty. A day wasn't asking much, but in a strange place like this it could mean anything, good or bad. But Newt was right, he didn't think any of  was real, so what did it matter in the end anyways? Letting out a sigh of defeat, Thomas nodded.

 "Okay. One day."

 Newt looked at him with a smile so kind and gentle that Thomas felt his heart skip a beat for a moment. He had to take in a breath and remind himself to not let his guard down until he knew for sure what situation he was in. Luckily, the other didn't look at him with that distracting gaze much longer, and instead called over another boy.

 "This is Minho." he said, gesturing to a boy behind him who gave a nod. "He'll find you somewhere to get settled in. You've had a long night, you could use a few hours to rest. I promise I'll tell you anything you want to know in the morning." Newt gave Thomas a pat on the back, leaving the two other boys. It sounded fair enough, and Thomas figured he could wait a few hours to ask the questions lingering on his mind.

 With that, he followed after the boy called Minho. As he did, he took in his appearance. He didn't seem to be much older than Thomas, and had muscled arms and tan skin. He made a mental note to not get on this guy's bad side, but at the same time, he didn't seem like the type to beat you up for your lunch money.

 Soon enough, they reached an empty hammock resting between two large trees. It seemed like a cozy setup, so he wouldn't complain about the whole _'I have no idea how I got here but I need to go home right now'_  thing. Minho made a mock bowing gesture towards it, saying, "Your highness."

 Thomas rolled his eyes in response, not sure if this made him like or dislike Minho. The guy was obviously being a smartass, but it wasn't in an unfriendly way. It was more like he was being playful, so he decided he did like Minho after all. Either way, he gladly sank into the comfort of the hammock as Minho took a step back, and the exhaustion settled in.

 "Don't have to worry about bed bugs, but the pirates around here are pretty infamous for kidnapping little boys like you in the middle of the night." Minho spoke cheerfully, and Thomas immediately sat up, looking at him with wide eyes. Did he say pirates? He was about to voice his question, but Minho chuckled at the look on his face, turning to walk off. "Night, shank. Sweet dreams."

  _What a lovely note to leave off on right before having to sleep_. Thomas sighed deeply, slowly and reluctantly settling back in. There was too much to think about, and not enough time to do it. He promised himself that he would sort through all the mess, but for now, his body and mind needed sleep. And so he didn't fight the exhaustion gradually pulling him down, making his eyelids heavy and his mind hazy. As he was being pulled under, one thing was all he could think of.

  _When will I wake up from this crazy nightmare?_


	2. Chapter Two

The wake up call he was expecting was not the one he received.

 Thomas was curled up contently in his hammock, breathing slow, expression peaceful. He was in the middle of some weirdly fantastic dream where he was flying alongside Newt over an endless beach. In a perfect moment, they joined hands and the setting sun shone through their fingertips. A soft smile settled on his lips, and he even felt the warmth of the dream moment. This, he realized, was in fact the real light from the sun falling onto his face and bringing him back to reality, if he could even call it that. He didn't want to wake up.

 Even so, a soft groan slipped past his lips and he stretched his limbs, popping some things in the process. He was far too comfortable in his hammock to be eager to get up. Maybe he could just stay there all day, undisturbed and not having to face anyone or anything. That sounded nice, and he would've kept his eyes shut if it weren't for the chill that went down his spine. Something felt off, but he couldn't place what it was.

 There was only one way to find out, and so his eyes slowly fluttered open. He rubbed the sleepiness out of them and yawned. Though he wouldn't like to admit to it, it almost took him a full thirty seconds to realize there was a sword being pointed directly at him, specifically to his throat.

 In a situation like this, there was a select few things you could do. One, you could calmly raise your hands above your head and tell the person to chill the fuck out. Two, you could bring out your inner ninja and drop kick the person while miraculously not getting stabbed. Or three, you could freak the hell out and scream bloody murder. Thomas heroically went with number three.

 He didn't exactly scream, because that could potentially end with the deadly outcome of having his throat slit. Though he did scramble back, falling from his hammock and onto the grassy ground, staring wide eyed at the blade that followed him wherever he went. _One day_ , he'd said. One day won't hurt, and then you can go right back home. Fucking thanks, Newt. "Woah-! What the hell-" 

"So this is the guy Newt's been talking all mighty and proud about? Pathetic. You can't even handle a little sword, how the hell are you going to be able to handle what he has planned for you?" The guy pressed the tip of the blade closer by taking a step forward, to which Thomas scrambled back.

 What Newt has planned for him? What the hell was this guy talking about? He just got here, what could the supposed leader of this place possibly want from him?

Thomas' look of confusion was clear on his features, and for the first time he focused on the person holding the blade instead of the weapon itself. From what he could tell, he was one of the boys from the group last night, and seemed to be about sixteen years old. His skin was pale, being covered in freckles and having a reddish tint to it. His hair was cut short and was a dirty blonde color. And as for his expression... well, it showed nothing but cruel amusement. He attempted to recall a name, if Newt had said anything or mentioned him, but nothing came to mind.

 "Oh, so you don't know? Of course not. If Newt told you, you would have gone running. But who knows, maybe you'll find out soon. Or maybe not." It was an obvious threat, and the guy pressed the sword so close that if he breathed, the tip of the blade would have grazed his neck. Thomas couldn't take much more of this, and his body reacted before his mind did. He jumped to his feet and stumbled back, taking notice of a decently sized stick next to him. He took a moment to look at it and then at the guy, who was smirking at him.

 "Go on. Take it."

  Having no better ideas, Thomas swiftly but not so smoothly grabbed the stick and held it in front of him in a defensive manner. He felt stupid and still unprotected, especially as the guy looked at him with amusement and stepped forward, lazily pointing his weapon. The guy knew he was at an advantage, so he was toying with Thomas. And he hated it more than anything.

 "Come on, greenie, don't be shy."

 This boy made Thomas angry, and every word he spoke made his blood boil. A show of emotions would have done him no good, so he had to control it. Or at least focus it towards the weapon he was holding so that maybe he'd get somewhere besides dead. As the seconds of them being stationary passed by, waiting for the other to make a move, Thomas found himself holding his pathetic excuse for a weapon tighter. Who did this guy think he was, holding him at sword point and doing whatever the hell he'd like? He still had time to back out of this, to run away from it, and yet he couldn't. Maybe it was his anger that would end up getting him killed.

 Once again, his body took action before his mind, and he ran forward. Halfway through, he realized it was an idiotic decision, and in swinging the stick he never reached his target. His blow was easily cut off by the the real weapon in the other boy's possession, and countered by an attack. Thomas jumped back just in time, saving himself from the sharp edge that would have cut right into his unprotected skin.

This time, it was the other's turn, and he took a step forward, forcing Thomas to take a step back. It went on like this, the guy smirking and only gaining more ground by the second. All because he knew he was at an advantage, and he knew he could kill Thomas in an instant. The reality of this seemed to set in, and for a moment, panic flared up in his chest. Was this how he would die? Being impaled by a sword, killed by some cruel bastard who found it funny? He thought for sure that yesterday he would have fallen to his death, but now-  _Shit!_

Thomas had been so distracted by his own thoughts of self pity that he didn't resister the attack going to his side, until the sword bit right into his arm. He yelped in pain, stumbling back so that he wouldn't this time receive a more fatal blow. His hand came to grasp the wound, and he hissed out slightly, feeling the blood pool through his fingers. He looked up just in time to see the guy walking slowly and tauntingly towards him, and he was so focused on this that he didn't notice the crowd of boys beginning to form around them. They did nothing to interfere, and simply watched, as if out of mere curiosity.

 Newt stood front and center, he too watching this scene unfold. It looked as if he was considering going between the two and putting an end to the fight, but for some reason he hesitated. He was waiting for something, something special to occur.

 Meanwhile, Thomas' foe was only getting closer. He went in for another hit, to which Thomas raised his mighty stick and blocked it. This could have been considered an accomplishment, if it weren't for the fact that the sword cut his stick in half. He stared wide eyed at what was once his only protection, but was now... Well, an even more pathetic stick.

 His situation was starting to look increasingly hopeless, and he stumbled back in retreat. The guy once again took his sweet time, already knowing that he was the winner of this little match of theirs. He was still playing with Thomas, and surprisingly, this didn't make him scared but instead even angry. He didn't have much time to feel this way before everything shifted, because his back then reached a tree trunk and the other closed in on him.

 A wave of emotions crashed down on him, most of which was fear for what was to come. That and anger. Anger at himself for allowing this to happen, and anger at this guy for giving him a reason to fear for his life. He was left with few options, and wished more than anything that he too had a sword so that he'd have something to fight back with. However, that wasn't the case, so he had to stick with what he had.

 He held out the broken stick in front of him in a defensive manner, hoping it would get him somewhere other than hurt. He braced himself for some kind of impact, another deep wound that would cause blood to spill. Though instead, something impossible happened.

 Right before his eyes, the stick held tightly in Thomas' hands began to shimmer. It was a confusing sight, to say the very least, and he didn't quite process it at first. Surely it must have been his eyes playing tricks on him, and yet it didn't fade. In that moment, everything appeared to go still and quiet. No one moved or spoke, and even his attacker didn't proceed with his action. All anyone could do was stare in awe and wonder as what was once a stick transformed into a gleaming sword, right in Thomas' grasp. Some boys stared with fear, but Newt was a different story, as a certain light of curiosity and even satisfaction gleamed in his eyes.

 Thomas just about peed himself seeing and feeling the change in his weapon. Everything about it was both terrifying and mesmerising, from how the weight of the sword suddenly pulled at his arms, to the way the handle felt in his grip. It was something out of a fairytale, one he never thought he would find himself in. And the way he summoned the sword, it could only be described as magical. Being where he was, perhaps it was just that. 

 He could have stared at it all day and let himself wonder, but he had other things to deal with right now. His gaze slowly lifted and found itself on the face of the boy who was trying to hurt him, except something was different. He was no longer smug, and instead there was a hint of fear in his eyes. He could see everything, like how the boy's confidence faltered, and the way his eyes scanned over the new and very sharp looking sword. Thomas didn't want to be feared, but he didn't want to be pushed around either. 

 Slowly, Thomas pushed himself away from the trunk of the tree and stood up straighter. Suddenly, he was no longer afraid. Suddenly, this guy didn't seem all big and tough. The weapon made him just a little braver of course, but somehow he felt more powerful. Maybe it was the sword itself, it's uniqueness and qualities. In the sunlight it gave off a deadly but somehow beautiful gleam. On the handle, there were strange markings and designs, and he made it a personal goal of his to find out what some of it meant. Though for now, he took a step towards the boy he had been running from just moments ago, sword in hand.

 The other looked Thomas over, as if sizing him up and calculating his odds of winning. He certainly didn't seem so brave as before, but he wasn't going to back down in front of his friends. Well, if they were even his friends. This guy didn't seem like the friendly type, judging based on very recent experience, but Thomas could tell he cared about what they thought. He could tell because the boy took a deep breath and went into a fighting stance, looking far more reluctant but ready to fight nonetheless.

 Thomas took this as his cue, and lunged forward with the sword. The boy seemed taken by surprise, and jumped back just in time to protect himself. Gaining some ground, the brunette kept at it, somehow naturally going in for each attack, swift, smooth, and without fail. He was sure that he'd never held a sword in his entire life, but he wasn't about to complain that he was winning this match.

 He went in for another attack, and another. The guy kept blocking but also kept backing up, putting himself further and further at a disadvantage. Thomas felt completely invincible, as if nothing could touch him, and certainly not this guy's sword. Taking a swing at him, the other wasn't fast enough, and got grazed on the cheek, to which he winced and jumped back. Thomas couldn't help but feel a bit bad. He didn't want to hurt this boy, he just wanted to put him in his place. But then he remembered the deep cut on his arm and suddenly didn't feel so bad.

 Taking a side step, he managed to avoid a jab from the other, and simply countered it by knocking his sword into his. His initial plan had been to throw him off balance, but even more fortunately, the sword flew from the other boy's hand and fell into the dirt. Thomas didn't waste any time with this opportunity, and held his own weapon so that it was pointing directly at his throat, no more than an inch away. For a moment in time, everyone seemed to be holding their breath, especially the boy and Thomas. There was fear in the boy's eyes and a slight tremble to his hands as he slowly raised them in surrender. He could feel the tension in the air, pushing down on his chest and shoulders. Though ever so slowly, Thomas lowered his own weapon, returning it to his side, and finally everyone could breathe.

 Not only did they do that, but the boys that had surrounded them began cheering. Real, applause-filled cheering. This surprised Thomas, but what shocked him even more was seeing the next actions the boy he'd fought with took. The look on his face was one of anger, with his set jaw and narrowed eyes, but he stepped up to the brunette male and bowed as if in respect. Accepting that Thomas won and he'd lost.

 It then occurred to Thomas that this might be a tradition of theirs. Dueling and then respectfully accepting a loss and declaring the winner. Then again, was this particular fight a part of that? It would seem that both would have to give their consent before indulging in anything. He remembered that the previous day, Newt said he would answer any questions, so Thomas made a mental note to bring it up later since, luckily, he was still alive. For now, the brunette male kept his gaze on the other, curiosity and still a bit of anger filling in. Though he bit down on his tongue, keeping himself from saying anything.

 Finally, Newt approached the two boys, seeming calm but somehow different. Thomas could tell something was on his mind, and he had a feeling it had something to do with what just happened. Naturally, he himself shifted in his spot and waited for the leader to speak. He couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. Newt always seemed to make him nervous. He'd hardly known him for twenty four hours, but still.

 For a moment, Newt's gaze rested on the sword held in Thomas' hands. He allowed his eyes to linger on it a bit longer, but instead of speaking to him or asking questions, he walked up to the other boy.

 "Well, Ben. I'm a little disappointed in you."

 Ben. The boy's name was Ben. Newt continued speaking.

 "Tommy just got here, and that wasn't a very polite introduction, now was it?" 

 Ben didn't answer, hardly met Newt's gaze even. Thomas took note of how the boy seemed to be clenching and unclentching his fists. From the way his jaw was set, it looked like he was biting down on his tongue to keep himself from saying anything. After a few moments of silence, Newt sighed.

 "Right then. We'll talk later."

 Only seconds after Newt turned around and began to make his way towards Thomas, Ben grabbed onto his arm, holding him back as he spoke up.

 "Newt, listen to me. You can't possibly think that this greenie would last a day going out there. He doesn't know anything about this place, if he did, he'd go running home to his mother. Trust me on this, if you would just send someone more experienced, like me or Minho, then-"

 "Ben." Newt stopped him sternly, pulling his arm from his grasp and looking him in the eyes. "I'm not asking, I'm telling you right now to stay out of this. Do yourself a favor and stop wasting your bloody breath, I know what's going to happen from here, and nothing will change that." He narrowed his gaze at the boy, clearly not happy with him, and for more reasons than the attack against Thomas it seemed. Ben stared back, and his leader started off, but changed his mind as he turned towards him once more.

 "And never, ever doubt your family again. Tommy is one of us now." With that, he turned and went up to Thomas, taking him by he hand and leading him away from the rest of the boys. Thomas' mind felt oddly fuzzy, numb with all the thoughts going through it. Newt had stood up for him, even called him a part of their family of lost boys. He had turned a stick into a real sword, leaving himself confused and dazed. Newt had something planned for him, and Ben claimed he didn't stand a chance against whatever it was. He shook his head to clear it, hardly registering the fact that Newt had pulled him into an empty hut and sat him down on a wooden chair.

 Thomas stared blankly ahead, almost unblinking as Newt stood, looking at him curiously. They remained that way for a few moments, stationary and silent while unknowing what to say, before Newt spoke up.

 "You're hurt." He stated, gesturing to the brunettes bleeding arm. "I could call in one of the medjacks, but we need to talk anyways, so I'll take care of you." He gave Thomas a smile as he went for what looked to be a homemade first aid kit. It seemed as if both boys were holding back questions.

 Less than a minute later, the boy came back with the kit and pulled out another chair, sitting in front of Thomas. He himself had no idea what to say or where to start, he just stared at Newt as if expecting a thousand explanations at once. He was so lost in a daze that he didn't even realize the other had said something, until he blinked a few times and it caught up to him.

 "Sorry, what was that?"

 "I said take off your shirt."

 "Oh." Thomas blushed with slight embarrassment, giving himself a mental smack in the head as a reminder to focus. Carefully, he slipped off his shirt, wincing lightly as the fabric brushed against the wound. He soon dropped the blood stained shirt to the floor, looking down at his feet so as to not look at Newt. He himself found this weird considering he'd never felt particularly shy with being shirtless around someone, and another male at that.

 Newt took this as his cue to begin work, and started cleaning up the wound delicately with cotton and alcohol. Thomas bit down on his lower lip at the stinging sensation he received from this, but otherwise showed his discomfort to a minimal extent.

 There were a few moments of silence, Newt dabbing at his wound and Thomas staring at nothing. As he found himself wondering if it would be like this the entire time, the other male broke the silence with a question. Rhetorical, it seemed. Or maybe it was simply a statement, but at the moment Thomas couldn't differentiate much of anything.

 "So, you finally met Ben?"

 This seemed to flip on an off switch with Thomas, and suddenly everything flooded in at once. All the unanswered questions, everything that couldn't be contained any longer or he'd go crazy. Maybe he was already crazy. He turned a stick into a fucking sword.

 "What the hell was that guy's problem? I mean maybe trying to kill each other is you guys favorite pastime but what. The fuck. You can't just point a sword at someone like that while they're sleeping, it's not fucking cool! And that stick? It turned into a god damn fucking sword. Am I a wizard now? Because that's just- oh my god I'm losing my mind here, aren't I?"

 "Slim it, Tommy. I'm trying to patch you up here and you keep buggin' moving. Just slow down a minute, one bloody thing at a time." Newt huffed softly in frustration, grabbing a needle and thread and attempting to keep the brunette still so that he could stitch him.

 Thomas took a deep breath, easing down on the many thoughts and emotions nagging at him. He knew he would get no where with Newt if he blurted out everything at once. He had to be patient, and take one little step at a time. Once he was sure he was calm and composed, he spoke, slower this time.

 "So... This is all for real then? This isn't some very well thought out joke, this place is magic? I'm really in Neverland?"

 "Yeah, you really are. You truly are in Neverland and you truly experienced magic first hand." Newt's voice showed no hints of teasing or sarcasm, everything he said seemed genuine. He was not looking at Thomas, but instead focusing on weaving the needle in and out of his skin.

 "And... I have that magic? Does everyone here have magic? Would that make us all sorcerers or something?" Thomas grew more curious just asking the questions, eager for some kind of answer.

 "It's what we call Neverland magic. Technically speaking, every lost boy has some of it to an extent. Some more than others." Newt nodded towards the sword resting stationary beside Thomas' chair. "And no, you're not a sorcerer. None of us are. Being a sorcerer just means you have magic, but you choose to practice it as a part of your lifestyle. Use it for personal benefit and such." Newt spoke vaguely on the last part, and Thomas got a feeling that sometimes sorcerers used magic for something more than just personal benefit.

 Even so, the brunette male nodded, taking in the information he was given. He watched silently for a moment as Newt finished up with stitching, cutting off the end of the string and looking satisfied with the end result. Still, there was something nagging at the back of Thomas' mind, and he couldn't help but voice the obvious question he'd been holding back. Perhaps he was scared of the answer.

 "Hey, Newt? Ben mentioned something... Something you have planned for me? What did he mean by that?" This time he looked directly at Newt, pursing his lips in a thin line as he tried to read his expression.

 Newt maintained a blank expression, most likely with the intent of not revealing anything he was thinking or feeling. He stayed silent for a long moment as well, no doubt picking out his words carefully. Thomas mentally counted each beat of silence before the other boy decided to answer. He'd counted to a total of eight beats.

 "Long ago, there was something taken from me. Stolen, if you will. I need that something back, and I can't get it on my own." Newt looked closely at Thomas, as if waiting for a reaction to this. He knew the boy had questions, even if he was choosing not to voice them right away.

 Thomas pondered on this answer given, not quite sure what to make of it at first. The only way to break it down and decipher it was to ask the next obvious question. He looked at Newt with his lips pursed in a thin line and his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. "So what does that have to do with me?"

 "I... Saw you. In a dream of mine." He started slowly, and seeing Thomas tilt his head, he continued. "When I say dream, it was more like a vision. Those in Neverland get them sometimes, and typically they signify something important. In my dream, you had Neverland magic that went beyond that of anyone else. You traveled in the night, across the ocean and to the cave. The place where it was taken."

 It seemed like whenever he received more answers, he just got more pieces of the puzzle that didn't quite fit. He was getting lost in his own confusion. "The cave? What cave? What...What was taken?"

 Newt regarded Thomas' questions in a patient manner, as if he were an adult holding a child by the hand and taking them through each step. He looked at the brunette male for a brief moment before standing and gesturing him over. Obediently, Thomas followed Newt over to a wooden table. He was curious as to what was going to happen, and was about to ask before the other male shuffled through some things and pulled out what looked to be old parchment paper. Delicately, as if it would crumble at the slightest touch, he spread it out over the table and Thomas discovered it was a map.

 "Here's Neverland." Newt informed Thomas, pointing to a large island on the map that seemed to be the center of it all. His index finger carefully traced itself across the ocean and led to land peaking out on the edges of the wrinkled paper. "Out here are the kingdoms. It's where royalty and all of its people live their everyday lives, not interfering with those in Neverland. Most times, anyways." He added almost solemnly.

 It took everything in Thomas not to interrupt. He wanted to ask about the kingdoms and what happened to people who interfered with Neverland. Though he bit down on his tongue, knowing that this cave, wherever it was, would be more important and that Newt was getting to it. His finger then traveled along the outskirts of the land as if following an invisible line. It landed on an area on the very edge of the kingdom lands.

"Out here is the castle of a powerful sorcerer named Aristotle. I hope you never find yourself there." He again spoke with a seriousness that caused chills to go down Thomas' spine. He would take his word for it, and never find himself at the sorcerers castle if he could help it.

 Newt's finger once again led out into the ocean, the touch just as delicate. Slowly, it made its way to a far off point on the map, and stopped. "The cave. Prison for my shadow."

 Thomas didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been this. He stayed in a shocked silence, staring at Newt for what seemed like minutes but was only seconds. Prison for his shadow? Did that mean what he literally said? He found himself looking down to the ground, searching for the answer of this, but the room was too dark to tell for sure. His gaze lifted back to Newt, mystified and bewildered, "Does that mean-?"

 "Yes. My shadow was taken from me, ripped from my own body and trapped elsewhere. A person without their shadow can't leave the island, meaning I can't even leave to take it back myself. The cave has a barrier that can only be broken by magic, as well as other dangers I'm not fully aware of myself."

 Newt looked deep into Thomas' whiskey colored eyes with his own deep brown ones, and suddenly it clicked. Thomas blinked once, twice, and gazed down at the sword by his side, "You need someone. Someone with magic to steal your shadow back. And you saw me doing that..."

 "Yes." Newt nodded gravely.

 "Newt, I-"

 "I don't expect you to." Newt interrupted, beginning to roll up the map. "In fact, I expect for this to be our goodbye before you ask me to send you home. I could never expect you to put your life at risk for someone you've only just met."

 "Newt." Thomas said again, this time placing his hand on the boy's shoulder. Newt turned to look at him, questioning in his eyes. A hundred unspoken questions. Thomas took a deep breath. He thought about being back with his aunt, the way she'd yell at him and hit him, make him feel useless. He thought about how each day had been the same, un-extraordinary, with no real purpose. He thought of Neverland, in all its beauty and wonder. Knowing better than anything his decision, he looked at Newt and smiled. "I am home, you said so yourself... So, how do I get there?"

 A smile so kind and so gentle formed on Newt's lips that it caused Thomas' heart to skip a beat.

 "You fly, of course."


	3. Chapter Three

It occurred to Thomas that he should stop getting himself into life threatening situations. An epiphany, he might call it.

 Though Thomas being Thomas, surely this was impossible, being he just got out of a life threatening situation less than an hour ago. Even so, it felt like the incident with Ben was ages behind him. Everyone had already moved on in those however many minutes, going about their strange lives without a care in the world. It also occurred to Thomas that he was one of them now, as he was already leaving first thing tomorrow to retrieve something stolen from their leader. 

 Admittedly, this mission wasn't necessarily supposed to be safe. He was promised a couple other boys to bring along with him, and never being a very arrogant or overconfident person, he would definitely take the offer. Well, so much for his epiphany. He made a note to start his resolution of not possibly dying  _after_ he survived this.

 In the meantime, he was left to explore, as Newt told him to do so. This was his home now, he'd said, and he was to make the most of it. Feeling all patched up and less fearful than before, he allowed himself to wander. It really was a strange place he was in, and he still had many questions he needed to ask. Though Newt had seemingly disappeared, and after his experience from this morning, he wasn't entirely comfortable with asking one of the other boys.

 This wasn't to last long. How could it? Some of these boys were just as curious about Thomas as he was with them. Some couldn't care less, and it wouldn't have made a difference to them if he'd lived or died this morning. Perhaps they were too used to boys coming and going. Whatever the case, the newcomer was blissfully unaware of the quiet conversations about him happening here and there as he left the premises of the camp.

 He instead admired the many things he'd failed to notice in the darkness of the night, such as the earthy smell of the morning, and the exotic flowers he was sure didn't exist anywhere else. They had a soft glow to them that led Thomas to believe there was more to them than met the eye. As if being drawn in by their beauty, Thomas slowly approached some deep purple colored flowers, kneeling down and reaching out a hand to touch them.

 "Don't touch those." Came a somewhat deep and familiar voice behind him. Thomas immediately jumped to his feet and whipped around, as if caught in some illegal act. Standing just a few feet away from him was a strong Asian male. _Minho_ , he recalled. Thomas hadn't even heard him approach. The boy had his arms crossed firmly over his chest to where the veins could easily be seen against such well developed muscles, and an eyebrow arched. For whatever reason, being looked at in such a way by this boy made Thomas feel the need to stammer out some response.

"I was, uh- just looking..." he muttered awkwardly, feeling embarrassed for whatever reason. He looked down at his hands, fiddling with them as a guilty expression formed on his face. God, he felt like such a child.

 "Sure you were." Minho responded flatly while giving a roll of his eyes, his entire body language showing that he had no interest in what Thomas had to say.

 At this, Thomas frowned, as if something had just occurred to him. In fact, something had. Minho wasn't the boss of him, and he refused to make it seem like he was. The other boy hadn't even told him why he couldn't touch the flowers, and he demanded an explanation.

 "Why can't I touch them? Are they sacred or something?" His voice had an edge of sarcasm to it to meet Minho's sass, and he too crossed his arms over his chest to mimic the boy's stance. Little did the greenie know that he was talking to the queen of sass himself.

 Minho raised an eyebrow hearing Thomas' sarcastic remark, and looked at him with what the brunette could have sworn was challenge in his eyes. For a moment, Thomas almost felt the need to drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness from his royal highness. He did not. Though he was reasonably close to doing so.

 "No, but they do release an extremely deadly vapor that will kill you painfully in seconds." Minho finally responded, completely deadpan. At this, Thomas' eyes widened and he now looked towards the flowers warily.

 "Holy shit, are you serious-?"

 "Dude, I'm just fucking with you. They're flowers, they're not going to hurt you." Minho's blank expression finally broke and he let out a snicker, his facial expression now showing nothing but pure amusement.

 It took Thomas a few moments to register these words, and he blinked a few times as his gaze lifted to Minho. In no time, his face was burning with a blush, and he felt beat down with embarrassment. Obviously, he wasn't finding this nearly as funny as the other boy was, and mentally cursed himself for being so gullible. Finding nothing smart or snarky to say in return, he turned around and began walking on the path he had been moments ago before he was interrupted.

 Not even covering a couple feet of ground, he felt an arm being slung around his shoulders, and he stopped in surprise. He knew who it was, but he looked over anyways to see Minho, still seeming a little amused but somehow apologetic.

 “Hey, I’m sorry. You’re probably intimidated enough by this place as it is without me being a dick. Listen, how about I make it up to you and show you around a bit?” Minho's offer seemed genuine, though Thomas couldn't help but be a little suspicious, and he hesitated. At the lack of a reply, Minho continued.

 "Come on, you don't even know this place. Just because you haven't found anything that will kill you yet, doesn't mean you won't. So a bit of advice, never be a proud bastard when you don't need to be. It could very well end badly for you. In other words, stop bitching and accept my help." Minho removed his arm from Thomas and crossed both over his chest, letting out a bit of a huff. 

 Thomas stared at him blankly for a long moment, before a smile slowly crept onto his lips. He couldn't help it. He liked this guy, and he'd already decided as much last night. Sure, he had a snarky attitude and his whole demeanor appeared sassy, but he meant well. Well, at least Thomas  _thought_ he meant well. There was no telling for sure with this boy. Minho must have known that he'd given in, because he smirked down at the brunette boy. Thomas hated that he was shorter than this asshole that was sort of but not really an asshole.

 "Yeah, fine. Let's just get going." Thomas finally responded, and not waiting for an answer, he began walking forward as he had been. He knew Minho was following right behind him, because he could hear the older boy chuckle lowly with amusement.  _What an irking sound,_ Thomas thought to himself with a roll of his eyes. Though any annoyance he felt was replaced by a warm feeling of excitement. Had he made a new friend? He would like to think he did, because the idea of being on his own here in that sense was downright terrifying.

 Then again, there was Newt... But then he began to ask himself what exactly that boy in particular was to him. Surely he was at least a friend. Newt had been so kind, and now Thomas was going to do him a risky favor. It was all a little insane to think about, considering he'd only just gotten here, but that's just who he was as a person. He couldn't even begin to explain why, but in any circumstance, he'd always felt the need to help people. It's just what felt right, it's what brought him happiness, even involving someone he hardly knew. Along with that, he always got a thrill from any kind of adventure. Back at home, things like that were rare.

 Becoming lost in thought, he almost forgot he wasnt alone. Though he soon snapped out of his daze, and looked towards Minho who was cocking an eyebrow at him. Of course, the boy wouldn't let Thomas off without some sort of remark.

 "You still there, shank? Or is my presence too much for you to handle?"

 Thomas rolled his eyes, opening his mouth to shoot a response right back at Minho, but stopped as he heard heavy footsteps and panting breaths. A bit startled by the sudden noises, the brunette whipped around, his gaze falling over a short and chubby boy who was unfit to be running but was doing so anyways right to them. Minho responded much more calmly, giving an uninterested glance behind him before turning around completely. Recognition filled Thomas in seeing this boy, and soon a name filled the missing gap.  _Chuck._

The boy named Chuck stopped about two feet in front of them. His cheeks were flushed pink, and he leaned over with his hands resting on his knees as he gulped in heavy breaths. His curly brown locks fell over his eyes when leaning down.  _Definitely unfit,_ Thomas thought to himself, and also wondered just how far this boy had ran and whether or not he needed medical help. Though luckily, no heart attacks or spontaneous combusting took place, and Chuck soon caught his breath as he looked up at the two older boys. Minho looked bored with his arms crossed lazily over his chest, and Thomas was looking at him with his eyebrows furrowed together and his mouth slightly agape.

 "I, uh- I saw you guys... Walking off and- and I wanna come with you." the young boy panted out in explanation, looking at the other two hopefully.

 After hearing those words, Thomas decided he had no problem with the kid tagging along. Sure, he'd previously just wanted to go for a peaceful walk on his own to explore the place, but with Minho already here that was out of the question. He figured it wouldn't hurt to have one more tag along, and besides, Chuck was probably bored and in need of some entertainment to occupy his little mind. How could Thomas say no to the request? He opened his mouth to respond, but Minho beat him to it.

 "Tough luck, Chuck, but me and Thomas here don't need you slowing us down. Got a lot to show him, and those short little legs will only carry you so far."

 Thomas didn't think this was very fair on the kid, but apparently no one but Minho got a say on it. And so the taller brunette just stayed silent, not wanting to interfere with the little dispute in any way. Chuck's previously hopeful expression turned into a pouting one, and he puffed up his pink cheeks before letting out a huff of air.

 "Come on, Minho! Please? I wanna show the greenie around too!" His voice held a childish whine in it, to which the Asian was seemingly not phased.

 "It's Thomas." the 'greenie' corrected with a frown, not exactly appreciating the nickname given to him by the twelve year old. Chuck was probably at least fourteen, but in Thomas' mind he was twelve. It seemed that the other two boys ignored his unrelated input on the conversation, hardly giving him a second glance. He let out a soft huff, looking down at his feet and burying his hands in his pockets as he awkwardly stood.

 "Nope. Go play with Newt or something. You can have this shank all to yourself later." With that, Minho turned on his heels, grabbing Thomas by the arm and pulling him along. He once again didn't appreciate the nicknames, but glanced behind him as he gave the short and chubby boy and apologetic look. Sure, the kid was kind of annoying, but he really wouldn't have minded the extra company. Chuck gave a shrug in response, going back the way he came. Thomas turned to face forward again, not trusting Minho to not 'accidentally' run him into a tree. He got loose from the other's grip, feeling nervous anticipation as he followed.

 

"So, Minho..." Thomas began, speaking but still walking along at a steady pace without falter.

 The two boys were currently walking through a heavily wooded area, trees surrounding each and every path they took. If Thomas didn't know any better, he would describe it as endless. Then again, he knew nothing about this place except from stories that could very well have contained all lies, so perhaps it was just that. The path they took was muddy, and each step had to be taken carefully so he wouldn't slip. Above them, a canopy of leaves shaded the area, except for the small openings in witch sunlight seeped through.

 So far, the two boys hadn't encountered anything life threatening. That is, to Thomas' knowledge at least. They very well could have been walking through a death trap, but unless Minho told him otherwise, the greenie wouldn't have know the difference in this strange place. Little to no words had been exchanged between them yet, and so he found now to be the perfect opportunity to ask Minho questions and learn more about his new life.

 The Asian male shot him a sideways glance, an eyebrow raising in the process. At this, Thomas continued.

 "This is Neverland, right? Does that mean you don't age here? Or is that just a myth?" He felt kind of stupid asking it, but it had been nagging at him for some time and he just had to know.

 "Nope, not a myth." Minho responded casually, his gaze not on the other boy but instead on the trail ahead of him in which he walked. "Been here a few years, haven't aged a day." This time, he looked at Thomas with a grin, as if he enjoyed delivering such information to a greenie.

 Thomas for one was bewildered. The question had been a stray thought in his mind more than anything, simply demanding to be asked for his own humor. Though receiving such an answer came as a shock, only making him more curious about the place he was in and causing more questions to flood his mind. He figured the other boy could have been lying just as he'd done previously, but he simply chose to believe he wasn't. For whatever reason, Thomas was set on believing the words that were spoken. Considering it for just a moment, the next question left his lips.

 "So Newt's the one in charge here yeah? Tell me about him. Does he have some kind of special ability? And how the hell was his shadow stolen?" So maybe it was more than one question. Again, he couldn't help himself, he was an inquisitive person and his questions demanded to be voiced.

 Minho looked over at him with what Thomas could only identify as amusement. There was a smirk clearly tugging at his lips, showing off his smug demeanor.  This confused Thomas and he began to wonder if he'd said something funny. He thought back on it and opened his mouth to speak, though stopped when the other finally answered.

 "Why are you so curious about Newt, huh? Got a crush on him or something?" Minho let out a quiet and (in Thomas' mind) sinister snigger as he continued walking. The smirk remained fixated on his lips, showing that he clearly enjoyed teasing the greenie. This boy was evil, no doubt.

 As for Thomas, he completely stopped in his tracks. In no time a blush had risen to his face, and in his now embarrassed state he attempted to stammer out a response. Of course, it was a defensive one. "Wh-What? No, of course not! I was just wondering, that's all." he looked off to the side, basically anywhere but at Minho. He hoped that the other would believe him and let it go, but that didn't seem to be the case. Minho too stopped so that he could turn and look at Thomas, his arms crossed and a suspicious look on his face.

 "Sure you don't." there was clear sarcasm laced in Minho's voice, and though looking at him for a moment longer, he seemed to leave it at that. Thomas was relieved because he was in no mood to argue, and it also seemed like an argument he might lose if it were to take place. 

 He thought Minho might turn back around and continue walking, but he stayed in his place with his gaze tilted upward as if considering something. Thomas was about to speak in order to break him out of his trance but the other beat him to it, finally answering the question from before, "Newt, right? Well see, he was here before any of the rest of us shanks. Don't know how he got here, I've asked but he's never told me anything for sure. He's just lived here far as I know, probably on in his own for a while before he started leading other boys here. The ones who needed an escape, y'know?

 "Anyways, he has more magic than the rest of us. He uses it to keep unwanted visitors out, make the island thrive and all. He knows everything about Neverland, and enough about what's outside of it for us to know we'd be damned idiots not to let him lead. But it's not just that. We trust him and, well, trust is everything." Minho shrugged at this last part, seeming nonchalant about it but Thomas could tell it meant a lot more than he let on.

 "As for his shadow," Minho continued, Thomas listening intently, "A sorcerer ripped it right from his body using magic. He can't leave the island without it."

 "The one Newt told me about? Aris...something?" he questioned, recalling the conversation from earlier.

 "Yeah, that's the one."

 "But... Why? Why would he want to keep Newt stuck on Neverland?" Thomas frowned in confusion. It seemed that any information he received just led to more questions on his part.

 "It's not him who wanted to keep Newt on the island, it's whoever asked him to steal his shadow." Minho looked at Thomas and let out a soft sigh. He was obviously expecting the boy to ask more questions, and he was correct in his assumptions that he would. This was a greenie he was talking to after all, what could they do except ask questions in the hopes of finding some kind of reasonable answer?

 "So this Aris guy just does whatever people ask? Is that supposed to make him good or bad? Newt told me I should stay away from him." Thomas felt a little uncomfortable talking about this seemingly infamous sorcerer, as if someway, somehow, he was listening in on every word. 

 "Depends on who you ask." Minho responded with just a little more interest in their conversation than before, "I don't think he's good or bad. In fact, I don't think anyone is ever just one or the other. It's always more complicated then that. But yeah, he does what people ask so long as they pay the right price. It's never money, but just something that's really important to someone. That, or a favor if you're jacked in the head. You never wanna owe someone like him a favor."

  _You never wanna owe someone like him a favor._ The words sent shivers down Thomas' spine for some reason he couldn't quite explain. It was like a 6th sense, a bad feeling that he just couldn't seem to shake. Despite this, he did his best to ignore the hairs that stood up on the back of his neck, and the way his stomach seemed to turn for a brief moment. He decided the best thing to do would just be to leave the topic alone for a while. There was no real reason to dwell on it, as Thomas already knew he wanted nothing to do with such things.

 Besides, there were more important things to worry about right now. Such as his growing hunger. At first, he failed to notice it, but then his stomach growled loudly, much to his embarrassment. He was reminded that he hadn't eaten anything at all since he'd been here, which led to the question of just what the boys here ate. 

 Minho simply glanced towards him with a smirk, causing Thomas' face to flush. "Hungry, greenie?"

 Thomas nodded shyly.

 "You're in luck, my friend. This is one of the many cases in which magic provides for us greedy bastards. Now, close your eyes." 

 The miscivious glint in Minho's eyes made Thomas nervous. "What? No, I'm not going to-"

 "Do it or no food." Minho crossed his arms impatiently.

 Thomas gave Minho a long skeptical look, though much to his misfortune his stomach growled again, and the other male knew he had won. With a soft huff of defeat, Thomas reluctantly closed his eyes, already regretting his decision. At first, nothing happened and he was about to peek to see what was going on, but he suddenly received a smack upside the head which caused a yelp to slip past his lips and his eyes to shoot open.

 "What the hell-"

 Minho was laughing, his body bent forward slightly and his hands on his knees. After a moment he composed himself, still chuckling quietly, "Ah, typical gullible greenies. I love them. Now lets get you some food."

 Thomas just stared, his head throbbing where he had been smacked and a slight look of disbelief on his face. Not even one day and he was already getting tired of Minho's antics, obviously not seeing the humor in his actions. Well, he could see it for Minho, but definitely not himself.

 It took him a few moments to recover from the unexpected action, but once he did, he was completely ready to tell the other male off. Though being prepared to do this, he stopped himself when he caught sight of Minho's open palm that was held out in front of him. It seemed normal at first glance, but looking at it for even second longer and you could see a light shimmer just over it. Thomas blinked a few times, thinking his eyes were just playing tricks on him. Though in that blink of an eye, red berries had appeared in Minho's hand as if out of no where. Startled, he took a sudden step back.

 "Did you just-"

 "Slim it, greenie, you summoned a sword this morning. Magic berries probably aren't the weirdest thing you've seen." Minho responded with a roll of his eyes. Lifting up his other hand, he revealed a roll of bread that seemed to have appeared out of no where just as the berries did.

 Minho had a point, and Thomas slowly stepped forward once more as he accepted the food items. Minho dumped the berries into his open hand, and put the bread in the other. He was pleasantly surprised to find that the roll was warm as if it had just been freshly baked. Though eager to eat it all right then and there, he first looked back to the other male and spoke.

 "So this is the Neverland magic Newt was telling me about, right? Does this mean anyone can just summon whatever they want?"

 "That's the basic idea of it, yeah," Minho said thoughtfully, seeming distracted for a moment but never failing to step perfectly on the earth below him. He probably knew every inch of the place by heart, while Thomas struggled not to trip on everything. "but again, magic isn't that simple. You can't just run around doing whatever you want, you gotta have a reason to use it, otherwise it probably won't work. That's how Neverland magic works anyways, everyone has different extents of it. The ones who would abuse it... Well, they're the ones who have the most limitations."

 Thomas decided this made enough sense for him to be less paranoid of the magically appearing food. It still felt disturbingly unnatural, as if he were breaking some sacred code somewhere, but hunger won over any thoughts of doubt. With a light shrug of his shoulders, he brought the hand holding the berries to his mouth and ate it all at once. Immediately, a groan of delight left his mouth as the sweet taste hit him. It was like no other fruit he'd had before. Similar to some, but not something he could make one single comparison for. Really, all he could say was that it suited his taste buds perfectly and left him feeling content.

 He could hear Minho chuckle not far off from him, but Thomas ignored it. He then turned his attention to the bread in his other hand and eagerly took a bite. Soft, warm, like it was fresh baked, just like he suspected. He scarfed the rest of it down in no time, and was a little disappointed when it was all gone. He looked back to Minho hopefully as if he would offer more food, but the boy shook his head.

 "We're having a feast tonight. In honor of your arrival, actually. So be patient. Trust me, it's worth the wait."

 Thomas pouted a little, but nodded. He was rather curious about this so called feast, though he'd find out about it soon enough. Minho began walking once more.

 "Now let's go. More things to see, greenie."

 Thomas followed after the other, observing his surroundings as he had been and taking in as much of the place as he could. They hadn't gone far before another question popped into his head. He almost stopped in his tracks, but told his body to keep going as he spoke.

 "Hey, Minho? If you're one of the lost boys, then what is it you needed an escape from?"

 Minho didn't answer, and kept on walking.

 

Some time later, they'd reached a cliff that overlooked the ocean surrounding the island. Thomas' legs were sore from the long walk and unanswered questions still lingered in his head, though every single negative thought seemed to disappear at the fantastic sight. 

 With their high elevation, a reasonably strong gust of wind reached them, pulling at their clothes and carrying the salty smell of ocean water with it. Thomas paused, falling into silence and closing his eyes to take it all in with every sense he had other than his sight. Somehow, it made the experience more real that way. Minho must have seen it at least a thousand times before, because he wasn't nearly as awed as Thomas. Yet even then, he could have sworn he saw the boy's features soften for just a moment.

 Still marvelling at the sight, he couldn't help but feel the need to get a closer look. And so he slowly made his way forward, nearing the edge. Again, he was moved by the perfect picture. A smile lifted to his pale pink lips.

 "Don't get too close, it's slippery down there." Minho warned from a few feet back, arms crossed over his chest per usual and seeming just a little impatient.

 "Just getting a better view," Thomas responded absently, his attention in other places than at Minho. "I'll be careful." 

 As the last syllable left his lips, Thomas inched to the very edge of the cliff. From here, he could finally see everything beyond the island in its entirety. He once again smiled, thinking to himself that maybe things wouldnt be so bad when he left the next morning. In that moment, he was entirely convinced that in a place like this, nothing bad could happen to him. Not far behind him, he was able to pick up that Minho was approaching him and saying something along the lines of 'you dumb shank, you're going to get yourself killed!' The words were probably less friendly than that, but Thomas didn't care, he was tired of the other trying to boss him around.

  "Yeah, alright, I'm coming back." As he went to stand, the world slipped from underneath him. 

 He heard screaming, at first thinking it was Minho's but then realizing it was his own. He plummeted towards the ocean below him, which only got closer as he fell faster.

 He should have listened to Minho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cliff hanger, sorry.


End file.
